


Counterfeit

by winterwhite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Meeting of the Minds, Slight Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Slight Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, chessmaster stuff, sudden and confusing voyeurism, woah nelly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwhite/pseuds/winterwhite
Summary: Hanzo Shimada challenges Gabriel Reyes.Gabriel Reyes escalates.Jesse McCree deals.





	1. Meltdown

**Author's Note:**

> We're not going into dubcon, but there will be tactically directed goings-on. Please do expect an edge on a lot of this. Please do not expect fluff!

The boat is a luxury palace, floating off Hanamura, anchored in a calm sea. Hanamura is lighting up like a tacky jewelry counter as the sky darkens. The waves are so low and flat the sea's nearly glassy out the nearby window. Reyes puts his back to the window, looking over the ballroom. It's got two levels of balconies rising above it. The surfaces are buttery yellow flooring, sumptuous red velvet, or gilt. It's so ornate and ostentatious it makes his teeth itch.

Jesse looks at home. The trick makes him smile every time he looks at his half of the room. Jesse's wearing a simple, elegant black suit, black shirt, narrow white tie. His hair is curled (curled) and cut and styled. It's... frankly, it's hilarious. But nobody would recognize him from his last appearance in Hanamura, stealing a shipment of Omnics destined for scrap, all business, body armor, mask and visor. Reyes has also undergone a transformation. His hair's been allowed to grow  out and curl, sides trimmed shorter. He's clean-shaven. He's got prosthetics melded to his face, changing his profile. A makeup artist has been hard at work removing his scars and altering his facial structure with artificial skin and long-lasting paint. He's pretty sure Jack would walk past him.

Genji Shimada has left Hanamura very suddenly, rocketing across the globe. Nothing about his motives has been discovered, besides that the Shimada-gumi have closed ranks quickly in his wake. He seems to have been cut off from the family fortune, and from the last update, he was roaming around in Spain. Gabriel can't imagine what kind of family spat happened.

Not that it matters. Jesse is here because a crime family has been building itself up. It's ceding Japan to the Shimada-gumi, getting outside backing, and appears to be making complex political maneuvers centered around an alliance spilling south and west.

Overwatch can't have that. But there's not much it can do, so it mentioned its problem to Blackwatch.  Blackwatch is here to observe, to test defenses, and to take any opportunities it sees to destroy the alliance and spread chaos.

And to leave after the successful assassination. That's also important. The body in the bathtub's not even cold yet, but getting out is going to be a different kind of challenge. McCree needs a better way off than just jumping overboard.

Besides, they've only accomplished part I. Jesse is in charge of part II. Bored, idle, handsome, waiting, a cocked weapon without its target in sight.

Reyes leans back in his chair, watching the band.  Hopefully, he will not be needed to act, and he can vanish into the chaos.

**

 _Damn you, brother,_ Hanzo thinks. _You were a natural at this._ Of course, there is no response. Genji is still out getting funds for - wherever he finally intends to run to escape his duties. The Moon, for all Hanzo knows. And so Hanzo is left to try to assess the scene himself.

His men are already off trying to find the body. They know that Kurofuji Akiyuki died very suddenly, with a spike of his heart that signaled a startling cause of death. It's possible he slipped on wet tiles and brained himself, but given the nature of tonight's event, it's more likely that someone's removed him. That someone has struck against the Shimada-gumi. To reverse its climb in fortunes, to contain its influence within Japan. There are many that would want such a thing.

The interesting thing is that all the guests were screened and checked. Hanzo has more people checking again, searching international databases and contacting officers, to find more details about the names of the few unknowns. Their scarcity is testament to Kurofuji's caution. Two of these newcomers are chatting up on the second balcony, women in long dresses watching the crowd below. One of them is dancing, a tiny girl with shining gold hair. One of them is the man with the slight scowl, as if he has a headache, watching the band play. The other...

Hanzo flicks his gaze again across the floor. The other is waiting for someone without wanting to appear to wait, pretending to misunderstand a woman's pause while she waits for him to ask her to dance. Not as tipsy as he pretends, either. Hanzo quietly places his bet on this man.

He understands the plan immediately as Yasuda enters the room. Noted blabbermouth, with money to throw around and very little sense, Yasuda is the most likely person he can think of to sweep a handsome foreigner off to his own little boat. He is also a connection. His removal will slow alliances with interested groups to the south. The man waiting for someone, who just flicked a gaze towards Yasuda and turned a little more to face him, is the assassin. Yasuda will be murdered within the hour.

Hanzo is currently uninterested in expanding outside Japan. He is completely at peace with this. But he also needs to make up for the advantage he has lost. He orders one of his smarter servants to stand by the door with a glance. He considers his moves as he circles the floor. The simplest one is the best. He moves between Yasuda and the assassin and leans in. He bets on English. "Enjoying the event?"

He was not supposed to be here. Yasuda was supposed to be here earlier. He was not sufficiently noticed on his entrance. He can read all of these in the man's reaction. He is _undoubtedly_ recognised, which is interesting, since his staff assured him this was the man's first visit to Japan. Many at these events know only Kurofuji.

He gets a rich, slow smile. "Oh, I ain't complainin'." The man is answering with careful shortness, trying not to be drawn into conversation. Hanzo reassesses the newness of the suit and the roughness of his grammar. Not raised into money. Not a surprise.

"Have you met Kurofuji-hakase yet?" he flows easily to the honorific for a leader twice Hanzo's age. He sees the tiny shift around the man's eyes as he assesses it. Unfamiliar with the rarer honorifics? Not usually an assassin sent to Japan, then, but still thoroughly briefed in key players. Interesting.  

"Met all kinds of people," the man answers, and bites off whatever he was going to say next - words less controlled, Hanzo believes, he's under pressure. "Excuse me, little too much sake." And he's headed for the men's room. Hanzo lets him go, leaning against the column. He's forced the assassin out of position. If there is anyone running interference for-

There is motion in the corner of his eye. He glances without moving his head. _Ah._ The impression he gets is strength, enough that there is a sliding stir in the back of his mind as a dragon reacts to Hanzo's possible challenger. He is tall - the height of the other man, but he carries it differently. The dangerous air to him is far more obvious than the man with the white tie. Hanzo can see why he chose to stay in the background.  

It puts a different face on Kurofuji's death. He is still sure that the other man was involved. More certain, since this man has reacted to the rock Hanzo threw in their pond. But who are they? One hired assassin coached in Hanamura politics was possible. Two, working together? Unusual, and surprising.  

Now. If the other assassin planned for Yasuda to be his ticket off the boat early, what was this man's ploy? They are too far from the docks to swim, and in any case, the cruise ship has the finest of safety features and a falling body would set off a thousand alarms. Hm. Hanzo wishes he had a moment to send someone to check on those. It's possible that they have already been disabled.

The opening move is his, should he wish to take it. Hanzo feels his lips curve. "Enjoying the event?" he murmurs. The men he sent to check on Kurofuji emerge. One of them catches Hanzo's eye, rubs the side of his head and taps his temple once. A fall, then. The side of his head slammed into something, the sink, the tub? Hanzo glances at the man's dark hands. They look capable. 

"It's elaborate," the man says, leaning his shoulder against the same column. It shows off how different their heights are. Hanzo would have to lean up to rest his chin on his shoulder. Hanzo glances at the bathroom door, at his men.

"Why waste the experience? You should have asked me to dance by now." He barely skirts patronizing. For a moment, he can't even read the man's face, because everything just locked down into neutrality. And then he can see white, even teeth in a spreading smile. A hand is extended. Hanzo believes he sees a veiled threat. _Fascinating._

Hanzo feels himself smiling back. This is more interesting than any adversary, rival, or ambitious upstart that Hanamura has offered in the past five years.  

 _The man is a warrior_ is his first impression when he puts his hand on an arm with iron in the bicep. _The man is a skilled warrior_ is his corrected impression as he allows himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. It's there in how he holds the space between them, unthinking movement and counter-movement that never allows them to collide when Hanzo missteps, no matter where his attention seems to be. There's none of a dancer's ease with shifting on the edges of Hanzo's space, just pure awareness of how Hanzo's body is moving. Not coincidentally, he is always holding just enough room to move a hand anywhere between them.

It reminds Hanzo of old exercises walking across the floor with a broomstick held between his ribs and Genji's, teaching them how to hold perfect awareness of their range of attack. Curious, Hanzo allows him to lead, but uses his freed concentration to try to step on his toes now and then. He does not succeed. The man prowls like a tiger.

 "They play well," the man says. Hanzo can tell he is being maneuvered to keep his back to Yasuda. But this attempted distraction tells Hanzo that the assassin has approached his mark. Probably, the assassin knows his window of time is closing; he will flirt shamelessly. Yasuda will still accept, being an idiot. 

"They should," Hanzo agrees. "They have been chosen at every one of  Kurofuji-hakase's events for the past five years." He lets his own gaze wander around the edges of the room. "I wonder where he is? Surely, our host will not keep us waiting for long. Have you met him before?" 

"Never," the man says.  Hanzo smiles when he realizes he cannot spot a lie. "I am looking forward to it." That _has_ to be a lie, but any tells are lost in the man's gaze.

"Come, then," Hanzo says, breaking the pattern of the dance and tugging on his arm. He knows he's being catered to only for the sake of cover. There's a thrill to the way the man goes with him. He could get used to it. It is one thing to order his loyal agents around, all people that have worked for his family for all their lives. It is another to be steering this much menace around with a tug on a sleeve. "I will introduce you."

He does not miss the sudden delay in the man's motion. It is not his plan that he be one of the ones to find the body. "I haven't been introduced-"

Hanzo stops him with a teasing smile. "You must know who I am." He glances back. The assassin and Yasuda are about to leave. He is not sure how quickly the man works; it's likely Yasuda will suffer a broken neck the moment his shuttle pulls away. "But I do enjoy dancing with you." He sighs regretfully. "Now I can't decide. Would you get me  a drink while I consider?"

He sees the man see the trap. He sees him decide to play along. Hanzo prowls the edge of the floor while the man goes. He gets just close enough to the assassin and Yasuda to notice a trickle of sweat rolling down behind the assassin's ear. The stranger might not realize that the Shimada already know that his target is dead, but he knows he is running out of time.

Hanzo sidesteps among the tables, motioning. The woman who meets him is one of his agents. He gives his orders, quick and low, without a glance at the couple. His dance partner is moving to his elbow when he turns, glass extended. His expression is neutral, with warmth that Hanzo considers, then disbelieves. Hanzo takes it, touches his lips to the sake as a matter of politeness, and sets the glass down. "I have decided I wish to dance."

He sees the man's gaze flick after his... associate. Hanzo has given him a choice between being a foreigner finding a murdered man, or another dancer on a floor. He is not surprised at the swiftness with which the man offers his hand. Hanzo hides his smile.

"I think it is time for names," he suggests as they cross the floor. "I am," a tiny pause before he decides to go with Western convention, "Hanzo Shimada."

"Adrian Jorrin," says a man who absolutely is not Adrian Jorrin. Hanzo already has agents investigating the alias, of course; he wants to see how he reacts when caught. Hanzo looks up, allowing himself to follow the man's lead while he considers his face. Of most interest are his eyes.

For the first time, he wonders if this is the assassin's handler. But why would a handler be directly on the scene? Still... he is older. He is better composed. He hides the pressure more thoroughly, although Hanzo can still read the tension in his body. It is possible he came along to supervise the hit. Perhaps it was a test.

More interesting is the fact that the man is reacting to Hanzo's interest. The bend of his head, the spark in his eyes, give it away. His hands have settled, steadied. Hanzo can still feel that unusual strength when he leans, but it is not obvious. When Hanzo's eyes hang on his lips, he can see "Adrian" notice. Play and counterplay, each of them starting to take each other's reactions into account, to look two or three moves ahead on the board.

Hanzo laughs when the song ends, dropping his hands away and turning. He knows that Adrian will follow before the man even moves. It is possible that Adrian is planning to jump over the side now. It is possible he has another avenue that Hanzo has overlooked. It is possible that Adrian's attention is on him because he realizes Hanzo has already made his move.

But no matter which way Adrian's thoughts run, Hanzo knows the police response time.

"We should get some air," he suggests. He gives a quick, obvious jerk of his head to the Shimada agents that accompanied him. They go out first, taking up positions on either side of the railing.

Before they even approach it, they can see the brilliant lights of Hanamura as a backdrop to the shining flickers of police lights on the sea, surrounding a little boat.

"That's Yasuda-san's boat," he says, with an effort to be surprised. "What could have happened?"

Adrian's voice is perfect. Hanzo already suspected he was a skilled actor, but it is good to be reminded. "Yasuda-san?"

"He must have gone already," Hanzo says. "I didn't even notice him leave. That's a lot of officers. It is possible he has fallen overboard." From here, they can see the assassin cuffed in the back of one of the police vessels. "Kurofuji-hakase must be aware of what's going on." They both glance to the side as more officers board the cruise ship. "We must speak with him."

 _Now_ he catches it. The tiny, sidelong look. Adrian has become certain that Hanzo has walked into the scene and made it his own playing ground. Hanzo smiles back, resisting the urge to grab his tie. As if Hanzo Shimada were going to let assassins run in, meddle, and run out again. Hanamura is his. But Adrian's role in his game... that hasn't yet been negotiated.

Someone comes out through the door behind them, panicking in Japanese, the words _accident_ spilling out with Kirofuji's name. Hanzo sighs deeply. That wasn't the reaction Adrian was expecting, and his attention locks on Hanzo. For a moment, he's caught by the man's dark eyes. Hanzo finds the air a little thicker. He admits to himself: being the center of this kind of focus, this kind of intensity, is rewarding.

"This is becoming much too dramatic," Hanzo says, motioning to his entourage. They come closer around him. "I am leaving before I am asked questions, I think." He glances over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

One of Hanzo's trusted associates is at his shoulder, but moves away at a glance. Adrian prowls into the space left behind. "Quite an invitation," he says in a tone that could mean anything. Hanzo is impressed.

"I can hardly let you wander alone," Hanzo says. "You are a stranger here, and this seems to be a bad night for accidents." The police glance at him, and go past, pretending not to see. "I'd never forgive myself if you had some sort of mishap, not after such a meeting as we had."

"You're too kind."

"Not at all," Hanzo answers. He steps back to let Adrian go first down the lift. Even though he is confident in his own balance and skills, even though he has skilled bodyguards to either side, there is no sense offering his back over a drop like this. It is, after all, a bad night for accidents. And it's just possible that Adrian might realize that Hanzo's little sidestep on the dance floor, while Adrian obediently fetched him a drink, was his chance to order Yasuda removed quickly and obviously. If someone of the Shimada family's influence says that a socially unimportant foreigner did it, the police will be glad to have such an easy resolution to their case. And Adrian has quite a problem. 

He believes he has this tiger by the scruff. But he feels a curl of uncertainty as he watches the grace in those broad shoulders. It is possible that the fur in his fist is the tail.


	2. Mold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reshuffling.

They have both missed check-in. The mission was completed. It also was fucked. Reyes makes himself relax back into the ornately woven seat covers of the small boat. Its walls are bubbled out, and faint strips of light line the top edge. That looks like real wood inlay. He considers recent events while looking at Shimada's profile. The man is staring out the other window at the glassy sea.

He's not terribly worried for Jesse's safety. The larger consequences of this are not good; it will be no time at all until his agent is uncovered as Overwatch agent Jesse McCree. The government will be involved, Japan will have many things to say about McCree wandering in without informing them and committing a murder, articles will be run and heads of state will respond and Gabriel will receive a thousand polite sneers. Jack will have another enormous headache.

However, they always knew this was a possibility, from the first time Jesse stepped out of Blackwatch. It's not like Jesse to have completed a hit while observed by a witness, either. (Can he even pilot one of the little Japanese shuttles? Reyes thinks not. On the other hand, it wouldn't be the first time Jesse decided the accelerator and steering were all he needed.) So someone interfered. That opens room to work. Not a lot of room, but room. 

He's concerned for his safety, but not afraid. He will undoubtedly be questioned. Probably Hanzo Shimada is planning to torture him. He might be the kind of man who, in privacy, kills for fun. But Gabriel doesn't think so; he thinks there's something different in play. Hanzo Shimada also isn't aware that he's sitting across from a graduate of SEP. Gabriel is hidden in plain sight.

So: why is he here?

"Cute little boat," he says. The woman sitting across from him narrows her eyes, ever so slightly. The man beside him stiffens. Now _that_ is interesting. In the moments when Hanzo had him away on an errand, he was sure they'd been given the picture. Apparently not. They don't react to an assassin sitting across from their master, but they will to a sneer at their boat. Shimada may be more vulnerable to flattery than he'd expected.

"It serves its purpose," Hanzo answers. He seems unruffled by the patronizing tone. Reyes expected it to get under his skin. _But he knows I am playing a part,_ he thinks.

There's a soft chiming noise. Hanzo pulls out his datapad with the air of someone about to turn a corner, and studies the screen. There's a long pause. Hanzo's face settles into harder lines, and his brows tug together. Since he is getting no clues, Gabriel slouches into the seat back, and waits.

He knows everything by the way Hanzo's gaze slides up from the datapad and flicks over his face. Adrian Jorrin's background is holding up; the Shimadas' informants have turned in all the little pieces they could find. Gabriel traces their lines, making sure he has the details ready. He will, at some point, be quizzed.  Probably sooner rather than later, because Shimada is starting to look again at his datapad, assessing. Creating an identity is hard work. An identity that is added to over the years, kept "live," with real mentions in local news, subscriptions to magazines, library cards, and other little snippets of digitally fishable information, is highly valuable. Adrian Jorrin's usefulness as a name to approach targets went up with his nearness to Kurofuji's death. So what players can afford to send him, and to spare a useful bit of cover like that?

Hanzo seems about to speak. Gabriel turns his head, staring out the wide window at the dark sea sliding by. When he glances back, Hanzo is watching him, mouth set in a firm line. That obvious attraction isn't at the forefront right now.

 _It's a tough move, isn't it?_ Gabriel thinks. Hanzo must be wondering what someone with that level of backing is doing in Hanamura. It's a matter of where he was going afterward, and how many other targets he was sent to remove. Gabriel sizes up Hanzo again. The man's not looking at him. He's focused on the datapad.

Hanzo isn't folding. Despite the stakes, Gabriel finds himself enjoying the anticipation.

**

Hanzo is reconsidering an earlier move.

If the man across from him is a mid-level leader, or handler of an assassin, his backers are now placed higher in Hanzo's respect than they were. He also is not sure who sent him. He can't estimate the man's threat by the wealth of those who hired him.

There's one note, at the very end, that catches his interest:

_If this is not a real identity, this organic cover is typical of large-scale organizations, such as Overwatch._

Overwatch? There were always rumors. Never anything concrete. He glances up at the man's profile. If he's with an organized group like Overwatch, where is his concerned and caring rescue?

More importantly, if he is associated with an organization so powerful, so is the man that Hanzo has sent to a jail cell. He had ordered his agent to kill Yasuda, who was dead anyway, and frame the foreigner. Throwing an assassin out of his partner's reach, into Japan's criminal justice system, had been funny. Now it is a different problem. Someone with this kind of backing, even a low-level hitman, will be silenced or recovered. But this man moved quickly to cover his associate, and Hanzo might need another lever.

Besides, the case depends on an accusation made by a woman linked with the Shimada-gumi, and there was no time for an elegant frame, for more witnesses, for more evidence. The police are deeply in the Shimada clan's pockets. But they do not care to look like fools. If someone with enough influence causes the accusation to be scrutinized, it will not hold. Hanzo sighs through his nose. His first message is simple, telling the woman to recant her story, say she had been confused, and agree it must have been an accident. He sets aside bribes and reparations for the embarassment.  

Then he sends a few requests to a contact in the police force. This leads to more bribes.

"Forgive me," he says to his guest, putting the datapad away. "Some business cannot wait."

 "I understand," the man says. Teeth gleam in his smile. He covers the clear threat of himself effortlessly, like clouds over the moon.

Hanzo Shimada has survived in his short term as leader of the Shimada-gumi by knowing his place, by knowing his capabilities, and never aiming higher. Even now, he might step away from this, have the stranger silenced and his body sunk off the side of the boat. But although Yasuda's death had been inevitable, he had not foreseen Kurofuji's. Their alliance had been prepared to avoid such incident. This battle might be coming to him.

He flicks a gaze over those broad shoulders, those strong and capable hands. It might be here. "Do you?" he asks. "You are a leader, Mr. Jorrin?"

Hanzo is starting to learn that smile, he realizes as it appears. "Only when someone is following."

Hanzo snorts. "A graceless non-answer."

Adrian leans forward, elbows resting on knees, casual in the suit as if - Genji. That's who it is, his body language reminds Hanzo of Genji. His eyes are dark. "Where are we going?"

The implication is as obvious as it is deceptive. The woman beside him controls an exasperated look. But in conjunction, it was played well enough that Hanzo bites back his rebuff. "That did not concern you when you came with me."

"I've had time to think it over." The man's stare is level. It feels like Hanzo's armor is being pried at. It feels as if he is being - appreciated. They are conflicting, but they are both there. It is not comfortable. It is not completely unpleasant. One side of his mouth twists up. Hanzo notices the slightest of lines ridging his cheekbone, as if a well-repaired cut left scarring beneath the surface. A touch would tell him the story. "While you were ignoring me."

There is only one way to fight back. Hanzo finds himself leaning forward, mirroring his pose. "Be more interesting."

For a moment, he's in the force of the man's smile. Then he straightens. Settling back into the seat back, gaze fixed on Hanzo's still, he starts telling the story of a scene from the airport. Hanzo listens. It's an insight into this man, if one he already had: good observation, a sense of people, an understanding of cultural norms. And it's told well enough to be amusing, paced well enough that the end comes as they near the dock.

"You sound observant," Hanzo prompts.

"There's nothing more interesting than how people think."

Hanzo is saved by agreeing, and from the significant look he's getting, by their arrival behind Shimada castle. They dock with little fanfare. The man settles back, waiting until Hanzo disembarks before he rises. A constant reminder that this is still move and countermove. It was easy to forget the bulk of him until he is stepping onto the dock behind Hanzo. And then, of course, it comes home to Hanzo how foolish it was to bring him home at all, much less by this way, when he can observe the tunnels leading up to the castle. Hanzo stares up the sheer cliff face, thinking to himself: _I am the leader._ None will question him overtly. Even his agents are just moving around them, near enough to observe and intervene, not near enough to intrude.

"Second thoughts?"

Hanzo turns. It wasn't quite mocking enough to be a taunt, but it was a serious question.

"You know where we are."

That half-smile again. The man's skin is darker than Hanzo is used to, and it's harder to read his expression in the gloom than Hanzo anticipated. "I know that you wanted us here, until it happened."

"You here," Hanzo corrects. He lifts a hand, despite himself, and drops his fingertips on the man's shoulder. He was half-hoping his memory was untrue, but no, he can feel heavy muscle.

"I'm only here by invitation," the man points out. "If you've changed your mind-"

"I am only wondering what else you are hiding," Hanzo says.

"Hiding?" But he can see it, he knows what to look for, the start of that damned smile. Hanzo is a step behind, he knows. He has to shift the balance if he's going to move ahead again.

"Who shot you?" Hanzo asks. His fingers slide half an inch to the right and push on the scar he found while they were dancing.

"Omnic," the man answers. "Happened in the Crisis." He's older than Hanzo thought, or perhaps was dragged into combat as a youth. He leans in. "That's going to be my answer for every one."

"Are you confessing that you will lie," Hanzo inquires, letting the moment stretch out, "or that you are a poor fighter?"

That smile, and something phrased as warning, as promise, or self-deprecation, depending on how it is turned: "I fight like hell."

Hanzo turns it each way. It seems most likely to be a promise. This is unwise. This is terribly unwise. The man is dangerous, and his motive is hidden. He hasn't balked to find himself at the castle. Hanzo thinks that he has missed something huge. But - what is he to do? Panic, and throw aside a guest who was not afraid to come? Drop the most interesting challenge to come his way in years? And is he always to act as the opposite of Genji, even when Genji has abandoned all his aspects, all his roles?

 "I send my enemy to hell," Hanzo responds. "I find fighting is often a waste of my time."

"You didn't bring me here to fight."

"Show me your scars." Hanzo reaches up and touches. He can feel something different about his skin, as if he were burned and had it repaired, but it's warm and porous under his touch. It feels as if this is a knife scar, or a bit of shrapnel. He wonders how much of the man's face has been reconstructed. He wonders what he has survived. The man's breathing has changed, although there's a quick glance to the side, assessing the reaction of the nearest Shimada foot soldiers, before he lays a hand on Hanzo's shoulder. Hanzo runs his hand across the man's chest, under his jacket.

That gets a flicker of surprise. "Here?"

Hanzo snorts. "If I wanted you naked here, you would already know." He could pull him down. He could kiss him. This is already glaringly indiscreet; they are on Shimada-controlled ground, but any eyes from the water could see them.

"And you think I'd go along with it."

"I think," Hanzo says, "if I wanted, you would willingly strip the moment a door closed behind you."

That fires something behind his eyes, something the man can't keep hidden. Finally. Finally, Hanzo has found something he can trust. "I'd like to see how you arrange that," the man says.

Hanzo shoves him into the water.

"Follow me," he says serenely when the man surfaces. He walks towards the tunnel. The man climbs onto the dock with ease. Footsteps squish behind Hanzo.

Hanzo thinks: _I may still fight for my life within the hour, but I believe I am ahead._

**

 _You son of a bitch._ He has to admit, that was a clean surprise. After Shimada's statement that he didn't need to do things with his own hands, well... Gabriel thought he was reading him closely enough. The man was damned strong. Not surprising, given his family's weight on martial arts. Gabriel follows him up the stone hallway. The castle feels old. The air tastes damp. The water behind the castle was slow and stale, washing back pollution. Gabriel does not think he smells at his best.

"These were smuggler's tunnels, once," Hanzo says. "The Shimada have survived the centuries by exploring all possibilities." He does not seem to expect a reply. They come out into a much more traditional building. Gabriel's been in a few other examples of the architecture since he came to Hanamura. Hanzo doesn't slow for him to sightsee. He does accept a bow and a single arrow from a hastily moving servant, hooking the bow over his shoulder without a word of explanation.

The bedroom they step into is simpler than Gabriel expected, before he decides he is not in Hanzo's room. This is probably just one of the many they keep ready for guests, decorated in white and blue. He wonders how many guards he'll find outside when he opens the door in the morning. He glances around. There are no windows. Hanzo stares Gabriel in the eye, shutting the door behind him. Gabriel decides how far he wants to cater to him... but really, there's no contest. Hanzo resists the moment he feels he is pushed. He can be led from in front. Gabriel shrugs off his jacket.

Hanzo watches, but turns away as soon as it _flump_ s wetly to the floor. The bathroom light clicks on, falling over the formality of his suit. He stands back, letting Gabriel in.

Hanzo's eyes narrow. He grabs Gabriel's tie and drags his head down. Gabriel marks the strength of his arms and lets him. Kisses him like he's been wanting to do since Hanzo pressed his lips together in the boat. Hanzo tastes like smoke, like some local tobacco brand. Gabriel presses into him. There - Hanzo is good at placing his feet, in dancing or in bracing to shove him off the dock. But his legs aren't in balance with the strength of his arms. Gabriel files this away, just a little fact to keep if he needs it.

Hanzo walks him backwards, into the shower. He's - Gabriel thinks he's missing some chances, here. Gabriel lets them pass. He isn't doing this for himself. This is about what Hanzo is thinking. This is about watching for opportunity.

"You know," says Hanzo, as the spray mists silver over the hair on his shoulder, "I have enough influence that your... associate's problem might be a thing of the past."

If they're going to identify Jesse McCree, they already have. It is not worth giving away Jesse's value to him. "Who?" Gabriel rolls his shoulders into the water.

"Don't insult me." Hanzo is looking him over, crown to feet. Gabriel has been expecting it since he noticed Hanzo remained clothed. He has been expecting to be made to feel like a thing on display, expected to be examined from more than one side. Instead, Hanzo is looking at him as if he is a puzzle, studying every shrapnel scar and bullet wound. Assessing who he is by the only markers he can access, signs cut into Gabriel's flesh. The marks of tragedy. The price of survival. "Do you have a better name than Adrian?" Hanzo asks.

It is a terrible attempt to chip his cover, after all the others, but the idea of helping Jesse seems to have been pulled off the table. Jesse will have to rely on the embassy and the slowness of the Japanese justice system. "What's wrong with it?" he keeps his tone light. He does not try to sound friendly. Hanzo would consider that an insult.

"It is one of many."

Gabriel nods. He's washed off the salt water, and turns the water off. "They all are." Hanzo waits until Gabriel has reached for a towel, then steps up on the edge of the shower, balances carelessly, and kisses Gabriel again. It's angry. He isn't surprised that Hanzo draws blood on his lip between their teeth. It feels accidental... mostly. He lifts his head, running his tongue over the spot. Reports said that Genji was more likely to bring a stranger into the castle, and was certainly too cautious to allow a Blackwatch agent access.

 _Things change_ he thinks. Hanzo's stare is unreadable. Gabriel watches him back. Hanzo reaches up, pressing his thumb over the spot. Gabriel waits to see if Hanzo wants to see him in pain.

"I am Hanzo Shimada," Hanzo says to him seriously. Still balanced on the raised shower edge, he has to lean down toward Gabriel's face. Gabriel does not lift his chin to help. "My family has held Hanamura for centuries. And no outsider will take apart what we have made." He steps down. "Sleep well." He is gone with a whisk of his ponytail.

Gabriel is not at all surprised to find a servant has taken his clothes and shoes. They are probably cutting them apart right now, looking for tracking devices. He is alone, in the Shimada castle, with no way to reach Jack or Blackwatch. On the other hand, he is warm, dry, free to move around, and not being tortured.

Gabriel blocks the door with a few pieces of furniture, and pragmatically goes to bed.


	3. Watermark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo's move goes poorly.

Jesse McCree wakes up. He sits up on the narrow little cot, yawns hugely, and stretches.

Yesterday hadn't been _bad_ , all things considered. He'd turned around just in time to see a whip-quick woman in evening dress slide up over the edge of the railing, and before he'd had any time to talk, she'd swung her legs over, grabbed his target around the neck, and flipped him headfirst into the hull, where he fell into the water. Jesse'd run to the railing, trying to see her retreat in the darkness. She'd made a flying leap to her boat, in heels, and started screaming and pointing at him just as the police vessels pulled around the side.

He has to admire her brass and her timing. It's absolutely something he'd have done.

And then he'd been arrested. Yeah, on the Overwatch scale, that was catastrophic. But he'd been arrested by a legitimate police force in a civilized country, so on the Blackwatch scale, a blip. Sure, he'd been questioned. Sure, he'd had policemen screaming in his face, shaking him, demanding he confess (and sign a confession.) But they were too carried away with the certainty of having a murderer to scrutinize his identity. He'd been in worse situations. The treatment wasn't even a recruit's exercise in resisting interrogations, just a warm-up.

Jesse had said it was a dark night. He wasn't sure what happened. He wanted to speak to someone at the embassy. And he wasn't sure what they were asking, did they have a translator? And since it was too late in the night for them to call one in, that was what he'd stuck with.

So now he's got a different problem:

He's in custody, in a police station. They want to keep him under pressure and force a confession. They're manhandling him in unrecorded sessions, shouting at him for hours. So... why did he wake up on his own, without a shriek in his ear? Why is he alone now?

This is probably great for Overwatch. But he wonders how good it'll turn out to be for Jesse McCree.

**

"No," Jack says. "We're not going in until Gabriel calls us."

"But-"

Jack blinks. Someone said _but_ to a Strike Commander. But hell, they just had that lecture again the other day about groupthink. "All right," he says, folding his arms, "air it out."

She glances between Ana's closed face and his. "I just think that if a leader is isolated, it can lead to weakness in his organization. That's all."

"You're right. But Blackwatch is made to keep itself moving for periods of time," Jack says, "regardless of what's going on. Reyes just dropped contact on an op. We know he's still alive. We know McCree is still alive. We have an idea," he motions at the Shimada fortress on the satellite feed, "where he is. If that thing were half on fire, I'd know he was calling us in. It isn't. So unless I see an explosion, I'm sitting back and letting him do what he wants."

"He likes to think on his feet," Ana adds sympathetically. "He likes a challenge."

"And if there's one thing he does _not_ like," Jack says, "it's to be rescued when he didn't want to be rescued." He winces. Ana nods. "Hanamura isn't easy to infiltrate. If he doesn't give us some kind of sign in the next couple of days, we're going to have to go in there. And when I say 'we' I mean 'us,'" he motions to himself and Ana, "because if he doesn't need help, and we fuck up some new, interesting thing he's onto, he'll never forget it."

**

Gabriel sits on the floor, frowning at the suitcase. It's not just like his. It's boxier, uglier. And it tells him that they found the wires running through his suitcase and didn't know what to make of them. Instead of surgical removal, they just destroyed the damn thing. Ninja problem-solving can be more ruthless than elegant. Good to know.

He's got his clothes back, at least. He shrugs out of the silk robe, dresses, and looks for good light.

The beard isn't exactly the problem. The problem is the hairs growing under the prosthetics and artificial skin. He's got a time limit before the lower part starts to detach. When it does, the pieces are joined to the others. Those will come, too.

The paint's more a concern. It's long-lasting, but it's just an illusion, a stain on his skin. Skin grows, skin sheds. It will wear off. He doesn't look appreciably different yet, but he can see the edges of contrast are fading. He's been moving, smiling, talking, getting dunked in seawater...

That reminds him. He checks the sleeve of his suit. They found the space where the powder had been stored. He's And he had thought it wasted when he failed to drug Shimada by the dance floor. (He wouldn't have drunk it either, but the man had been so utterly _confident_ that it had been worth a shot.) The spare button has also dissolved after its saltwater bath. Damn. At least he'd known that one was a loss. And, of course, Hanzo had economically checked for hidden knives or pistols. Gabriel shakes his head. He'd been expecting Hanzo to just feel over him. It's what Reyes would have done.

There is another knock on the door. When he opens it, a breakfast tray has been left for him. The guards stand down the hallway to either side, distant, discreet, with closed faces. Gabriel takes the tray inside and puts it down. He sits for a moment, thinking about what he'll do next. Then he pauses that to consider: is Shimada drugging him?

 _No,_ he thinks promptly. _This is much too personal for him. His ego is involved. He'd insult himself by sabotaging me._  

Is it likely that another Shimada drugged the food, resenting his presence? Possible, not likely. Gabriel pours himself some tea and resumes his thoughts. There's one thing that he doesn't understand, but knows must be important.

Gabriel thinks: _You are about to step into a bathroom with a man larger and heavier than you. You are trained to analyze every possible fight and prepare accordingly._

 _Wouldn't you want a weapon for close-range work? Why do you want a_ bow _? Why would your servants already know your choice? And why one arrow? If you don't have much time for your shot, wouldn't you want to use something that had no chance to miss?_

His conclusion: the arrow is just misdirection. The bow conceals another weapon. That's the true threat.

**

Junko Kirofuji is not an attractive woman. Her face is plain and severe, the bones too small, her lips thin. All of these Hanzo could overlook, if she were more - anything. More intelligent, more fierce, more clever. But while she's as ruthless as an axe edge, she is not subtle. She is one of many he has considered, and has not asked.  

 _"The man that you took from the ship,"_ she says. _"What was his role?"_

 _"We are still resolving that,"_ he answers. _"We believe that he was used as a distraction."_ He sips his tea. _"We are more interested, of course, in who sent the assassin."_

 _"We can find out,"_ she answers. _"We would appreciate the chance to investigate."_

Hanzo gives a tiny nod, as if the idea interests him. It does not. Kirofuji was the one who wanted to go outside Japan, who was sinking his reach as far as he could. Hanzo's interests in the partnership were more reserved. The Shimada-gumi would not mind having new influence, a chance to learn new markets and consider new trade partners. But keeping Hanamura under its thumb and influencing black markets across Japan had always been its goal. He saw no reason to break from tradition.

 _"He does not seem to know,"_ Hanzo says. _"This attack happened outside Hanamura. It happened in Japan. Hanamura police were swiftly-"_

 _"Called by the Shimada-gumi."_ Her teacup clinks down, and her hands settle in her lap. _"Perhaps they could have gone very differently. Everyone expected Yasuda-san to fall from his boat eventually, and my father's ship was our family's."_

 _"The assassin was already leaving,"_ Hanzo says mildly, _"and at the time, I was not sure the distraction was not somehow departing."_ He gives a tiny shrug. _"Of course you have the right to avenge your family. And of course, if I knew who was behind this attack, I would tell you."_ He absolutely would. Better the Kurifuji-gami deplete their resources fighting the enemy than the Shimada-gumi. _"The assassin is not yet dead. He can still inform you of whatever is in his mind. But I can't obtain a source of information from the police, then hand it over, until I am sure that I understand the risk to Hanamura and my family."_ He drinks tea. _"We know only that one phase of one mission involved two deaths. We do not know what else might be in play."_

 _"That is all the more reason to move swiftly."_ Her fingertips show on the edge of the table, white. But she knows his skill at strategy. With her respect for him, he thinks she will be easily persuaded if he speaks with certainty.

 _"I believe it would be safer,"_ he says, _"to use this time to lock down defenses and gather resources. Your family has just experienced a great setback - again, my condolences."_ He picks up his teacup. _"If this assassin knows as little as I believe, if he is only a hired gun, then it is possible they are saving their best tools for the follow-up. If that is the case, then new openings will be created as you stop their attacks."_ He takes a moment to drink tea. _"I will confirm everything I can, and release him to you, unless his backers show themselves first."_ He shrugs. _"In which case, he is useless."_

Her eyes have widened. Junko Kirofuji might not be as intelligent as Hanzo demands of a partner, but, like him, she is smart enough to know her limits. She knows how she stands against her father's reputation. She knows how vulnerable her family has become. She knows how hard she will have to struggle to keep what he has gained. Their plans of expansion are largely stopped. She will back down, and she will wait.

If he can find out who the backers were, he will definitely tell her. He may see her organization as a supply of cannon fodder, but she, herself, could have a role to play in the future. He listens patiently to her thoughts. He should indulge her pride, since she has allowed him to cheat her of the assassin. (For the time being. Possibly, permanently.)

(He would not have allowed himself to be stopped.)

As he is driven home, he checks his messages. His mind is not really on them. He is thinking of a spill of dark, curly hair over a dusky brow. If that man were a woman - well, there is no use thinking of that. But even under these circumstances, he has much to offer. He reads over his messages once more.

He doesn't know the man he has brought under his roof. He has hints of how he thinks, a strong idea of what he wants, suspicions of his goals... but he doesn't know him. He just knows the man's cover only slips when he's caught up in the moment. In the physical, in the give and take.

**

Gabriel is not surprised when they knock and stand back, leaving one side of the hallway open, inviting him to move that way. They have polite faces, blank eyes, and their body language is not clearly commanding, but they are insistent in their stillness.

He's glanced over the Shimada castle's satellite view a time or two, curious about how far they've upgraded into modern times. From that, he has a basic layout. But he can't connect any of these tunnels with it. They come out into a small courtyard. He can hear the sea, but the sound is bounced around. The walls are closed on all sides, and tell him nothing. He glances from Shimada to the walls to -

He can't see the pillars themselves, but shadows from two poles on the roof stretch over the ground. He measures their angles against the wall, and he has the layout of the roof. Interesting. He glances around again, orienting himself. Then he looks at the ground underfoot while his mind goes over the structural details he caught in that glance.

After all, he might need some help getting out of here, and knowing where to direct a missile or two can't hurt.

**

 _Simple geometry,_ Hanzo thinks, as he sees the man deduce where he is. The castle is old and historic, and the Shimada family can do nothing about photographers coming through Hanamura and zooming in on its picturesque facade. Hanzo waits. The man does not seem to be choosing an escape route. It means Hanzo is safe to go forward with his plan, but it is also a warning. So Hanzo interrupts his thoughts by throwing a wooden sword at his head.  The man catches it, tossing him a curious look. Hanzo hooks his storm bow across his chest. Instead, he takes the twin of the wooden sword.  

"It is only one way to learn who a man is," he says, "but I think if I asked for your story, I would be no closer to knowing you." He bows.

Adrian shakes his head. "You'd know I don't fight with a sword." He glances at the stand of practice weapons when Hanzo lifts a hand to it. He prowls over to it, looking over his options. The wooden sword goes back. He takes a staff instead.

Hanzo was right about one thing. The man's cover fades for his real self at certain times, like when he wants to touch a lover or, apparently, a weapon. His focus has gone small; his world narrows down to him and the staff. He rolls it in his hands, glancing from one end to the other. One hand runs down it, and he lifts it horizontally, getting a sense of its weight, its balance. He spins it once, twists it through a figure eight. Then he looks up, smiling at Hanzo, as if there's a secret only the two of them can hope to know. While Hanzo is blinking, Adrian sobers. He returns the bow, and stands patient, waiting.

Hanzo has been handed the first move. He attacks. He's not surprised that Adrian knows what he's doing with his chosen weapon. Adrian fights - no. He is not actually fighting yet. Adrian reacts as though his feet can root in the earth at will. Hanzo got a sense of his balance back on the dancefloor. It flows through him now. When he blocks, it's as if he's preparing for a hit ten times harder than Hanzo's testing taps; he twists as if ready to take the force through his body and spread it into the ground. He does nothing more than defend.

Hanzo can tell that he's holding back. It's annoying. He can see Adrian's eyes slide over his face, watching his reactions. This is Hanzo's chosen route, and Adrian is already mastering it. Hanzo thinks _I have not been patient enough._ He steps back and starts moving, closer, further, forcing Adrian to track him but never quite attacking.

It has slight entertainment for him, because he is watching for the moment when Adrian becomes bored.  He should never have worried he'll miss it. Adrian doesn't have his skill, his elegance. He's quick. He's economical. And each move has power behind it. From the plant of his feet on the earth, from his momentum as he pivots to follow Hanzo, from his weight in motion.

If it were a real fight, Hanzo would get enough small cuts in to bleed Adrian to death. It is not a real fight. They are not real advantages here.

Minutes pass, and while the air cracks with their blocks and parries, while Hanzo gets in small, glancing hit after hit... Hanzo thinks he still has not forced Adrian to fight him. That angers him. And that is a mistake, because it moves his focus from observing to moving. They spar like the wind across the land. Adrian stays grounded, weight on both feet, unable to move as Hanzo does; Hanzo moves around him, unstoppable, untouched, but never quite unpredictable enough.

It happens in a blur. Hanzo's sword is blocked, but he is still moving, and the sword cracks across with Hanzo's momentum and splits Adrian's lip on his teeth. They both back up a step. Adrian touches his lip, checks his fingers. "First blood to you." He taps the scabbing beside it. "Second?"

Hanzo notices that he is breathing harder. He puts it down to how much further he has to go. "What were you expecting?"

"Did you mean to do that?" Adrian challenges. There's fire in his eyes. Hanzo is proud of himself, and disappointed.

"No."

A twist of that bleeding lip. Adrian's gaze turns mocking. "Then I was expecting better." He sets his feet, tongues the cut on his lip, and raises the staff, waiting.

Hanzo feels his knuckles whiten on the hilt. But he raises it in a salute. He's more careful, this time, holds the sword loosely, relaxed.

And that is how Adrian disarms him.

His focus is on too many things: not embarrassing himself, landing and leaping where he needs to go, timing his movements so that the other end of the staff doesn't whip around and strike him, weighing Adrian and seeing the fight through his eyes, holding his grip more softly - and it's done that quickly, a spin of the staff and a snap against his wrist and the bokken flying from his reach. Hanzo is already dropping and rolling away from the followup thrust of the staff. When Adrian pursues, Hanzo smacks the hit aside with his bow in his hand.

Adrian smiles. The cut on his lip is clotting. Hanzo is not sweating hard, but he can feel a slow trickle under one shoulderblade, feel the clammy soak under a strap crossing his chest. Adrian isn't sweating like he is. That's surprising. With that much muscular bulk, he should be.  

And _now_ Adrian attacks.

Hanzo isn't sure what makes him so aggressive, but it doesn't matter. Adrian is right on top of him. The staff's advantage is superior reach, but Adrian trades it for inescapability. Hanzo moves, dodges, blocks again and again. Controls the pressure of having someone that much bigger coming after him. Uses the bow like a sword, like an axe, forces Adrian to back up and block.

He's setting up a chain of hits that will force Adrian to yield when he steps closer to the wall. Adrian brings the quarterstaff across in a straight line and lunges. There's nowhere to go in time. It shoves Hanzo back. Hanzo brings the bow across Adrian's neck. But it doesn't matter, he's pinned.

"Tactic-" Adrian starts to advise him. Hanzo shuts him up, grabbing his hair and kissing him. Adrian accepts it. Hanzo hooks his bow over his shoulder, guiding the staff back to the weapons rack with one hand. They both had plans. Adrian put his into action sooner. He puts a hand on Adrian's face, feeling that ridge beneath the skin. Adrian slows. Hanzo slides his hand into his hair and pulls his face down.

"Inside," he says into his ear. Adrian moves, easy stride, tiger's prowl. He is breathing harder than he was. Hanzo guides him. Adrian tastes like blood.  

Hanzo wants the man's real name. He wants his background; he wants to know where he learned to fight like that, how often he practices, who he spars with; he wants to know if Adrian has any concern for the assassin that worked with him, if he is a lone wolf or if he cannot resist a partnership.

Hanzo has not been blocked so many times, in so many ways, since Genji left.

Adrian is right behind him when the door opens. Hanzo has a sense that it's the same intimidation that he saw in the small courtyard. When he turns, the man's face is blank, his eyes calm. Hanzo drags him to the bed and pushes, looking for a reaction. Adrian sinks down onto it. There's not even the heat that Hanzo saw in the courtyard. Just... curiosity. Hanzo reaches out.

"What happened to your face?"

Adrian's eyes have a light in them. It isn't what Hanzo wanted. It isn't what Hanzo feels. "Omnic."

 _That's going to be my answer for every one,_ Hanzo thinks. He has misstepped. This man isn't an assassin, first and foremost; he's a warrior. The man in the police station is the assassin. Kirofuji's death was a test, an audition? It was supervised by this man, not assisted. Hanzo made a few moves poorly, and now, now the man is a step ahead. Hanzo is wasting his time.

All of these click into place, run cold down his spine.

 _No,_ Hanzo thinks, looking at Adrian's handsome face. He runs the backs of his fingers down the man's profile, feeling the places beneath the skin that are not his flesh and bone.  Perhaps reconstruction of terrible scarring. _No._ He settles into the lap of the most interesting thing that's happened to him, kissing him like he could take the last, misplayed moves back. _I will not lose to you,_ he silently promises.

He's not sure what winning is anymore, but he knows what losing feels like. He takes the poorly played pieces off to the board, setting them to the side. Concedes that he will not play them again. Adrian watches him stand again. Adrian does not move to stop him, does not seem to want to. Hanzo is an obstacle between him and freedom now, not an opponent; Adrian considers him to have abandoned the game.

Hanzo closes the door softly behind him, and regroups.


	4. Colorshifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's error: allowing his opponent to regroup.

Gabriel puts his mind on his escape. It's a well-built castle, but if he gets on the top floor, it's easy to get the roof; and the roof is complicated enough to give him cover on his way to the wall. He can survive the drop at a few points, he knows, even a drop into the sea. Overwatch isn't doing anything, which means they haven't been contacted by Jesse... which means that the Hanamura police simply backed out of investigating Kirofuji at all, and have taken the suspect in Yasuda's killing at face value. 

Careless, negligent. But perhaps in a Yakuza-controlled city, that's just how it's run. Breaking Jesse out of jail is going to be a challenge, but it's not like he's never done it before. 

 He has his first plan, a backup plan. An idea solidifying of the best time to try it. Better to be patient. He waits.

A knock interrupts him. When he opens the door, instead of the usual tray, there is a flat screen. He picks it up, brings it inside, and drops it on the bed. He's not sure what Hanzo Shimada wants him to see. The feed doesn't have any controls to stop and start. Whatever is on the camera end, it could be live. Or it could be on a time delay, and whatever is happening, it has already happened. There is no point in being impatient. He goes back to the book that he found in the bedside table.

He hears a small pop of static and sees a flicker of light. He glances at the feed. It's... the inside of an interrogation room? Small, one table, two chairs, security glass on the heavy-locked door.

Jesse is shown in by an officer. Gabriel feels his breath leave his lungs slowly, feels his expression flatten. Shimada didn't torture Gabriel. Shimada's interest in him keeps him safe, in his own category. But Shimada wants him to see what happens to Jesse.

Nothing is happening. Minutes tick by. A shadow on the glass - and gone. Gabriel has been left in the windowless room since Hanzo's departure. He glances at the clock once, when the glare of sunlight bounces down the hallway, reflected by a swinging door. Yes, there does seem to be a time delay. The monitor eventually goes to sleep. Gabriel taps it curiously. No, it's not on his end.

The monitor wakes up because there is new movement in the room. Shimada himself. Gabriel resists the urge to comfort his temples with one hand. Of course the _Hanamura police_ let _Hanzo Shimada_ stroll in and use their building whenever he wants. They must have been cultivated onto the payroll for decades.

There isn't any sound. He can tell they're talking. Jesse's face is guarded, expression nearly still. His only motions are calculated. Little head and hand movements that Gabriel's done interrogations alongside, played poker opposite. Shimada's own responses seem brief. Careless, judging by Jesse's expression. Jesse knows something's going on beneath the surface. He's trying to see.

The first touch is casual. Shimada reaches across to Jesse's chin, lifts it up, and slides his knuckles along his jaw towards his hair. Gabriel swallows. Hanzo runs his fingers into it firmly, drawing a little circle on Jesse's temple with his thumb. Gabriel notes that he's holding his hand with his wrist low, letting the camera follow Jesse's face. He wants Gabriel to see this. Gabriel braces for blood. Instead, Hanzo runs his fingers through Jesse's hair, pulling it to the side to study the texture, rolling it in his fingertips to study the feel.

-wait.

Gabriel leans closer. This has nothing to do with threat and everything to do with _thought._ Hanzo is identifying the aspects of Jesse's disguise as cleanly as he found Gabriel's. It's a bloodless dissection. That ferocious intellect, back in use.

Jesse's face is locked down, the same blank mask Gabriel is wearing. He knows it's a game, he knows it's a tactic, he doesn't know why. He doesn't know it's not about to get ugly. Shimada says something, and although Jesse's eyes flick up and hold his, there's no relaxation. No sense of assurance. Hanzo runs his other hand over Jesse's lips, over his cheekbone, over his forehead.

He knows about the prosthetics. It's also pure gamesmanship, Gabriel thinks, and it fires something in him: a player touching an enemy's pawn on the chessboard, mind games and psych outs. He has to admire this. Hanzo is making his play just by letting Gabriel watch. He's discovering Jesse, testing and trying, getting answers without a single question. But it has to end shortly, there's not much more he can get-

Hanzo tugs Jesse off the chair. He pushes him onto the table instead, leans down, and kisses him.

It's no chaste moment. Hanzo, aggressive as on the practice ground, braces his hands to either side of Jesse's hips. Jesse is off-balance, has to lock his stomach muscles to keep from falling back, has to grab Hanzo's shoulder. Jesse knows Shimada is playing him. But if Jesse's weak to one thing, it's being wanted. Gabriel can see a flush creeping over his face, see how he breathes when he breaks off.

Gabriel notes lines on the bedspread and glances down to see his fingers are drawing into a fist on the blanket. He relaxes. Hanzo is teaching him something he's managed to avoid: he now _knows_ what Jesse is thinking, how hard he's struggling for composure, when he lifts his chin and takes a little gulp in. Gabriel has seen that as he's helped Jesse into his armor, or had a friendly wrestling match, or hugged him after a successful mission and ruffled his hair. He'll never miss it now. _Fuck._

Hanzo is kissing Jesse. This time, he breaks off the kiss to mouth Jesse's cheekbone. Pulls back to say something, rubbing the spot with his thumb. As if he can clean off a stain. He's checking for paint. He knows Gabriel's wearing it. He never gave that away. Gabriel has to admire it, much as he could tear him off Jesse right now. Jesse answers, with a defiant cock of his head. Hanzo's eyes narrow, and he murmurs something, leaning in. Jesse's chin comes up. Gabriel can see a pass of his tongue on his chafed lips. He answers. Whatever he says, Hanzo relaxes. His tattoo ripples as he cups a hand under Jesse's jaw. He leans in like he's going to say something. Gabriel can see Jesse's tongue again, a delicate flick, sliding between Hanzo's lips. Gabriel feels a sting, tastes blood. He's caught his own lip between his teeth, hard enough to break the edge of a scab.

Hanzo accepts the kiss like an offering. When Jesse breaks away, leaning back, Hanzo watches him go. Then he smiles. Not predatory, but aggressive. Pushes Jesse down flat on the table. (Testing his strength, seeing if he has enhancements - he is very familiar with Gabriel's advantage, and looking for an association.) Follows him down, tracking the way Jesse pushes his palms on the table, flat. Gabriel sees how Jesse goes with it. Sees how Hanzo can't help watching. Hanzo is observing Jesse's self-discipline, good as any warrior's.

Then Hanzo leans down. Kisses Jesse as if he's going to consume him. Gabriel keeps his face stiff and his breathing steady. He doesn't know which of them he wants to be; holding Jesse down, feeling him trying to move, needy and eager, like Gabriel's known he would be, all along. Or with Hanzo in his arms, blazing with triumph. This is Hanzo's moment, dug into Gabriel's armor, where he can't stop him. Where he doesn't want to stop him. Where he has to watch. Jesse's so beautiful, arcing up, struggling to keep from dragging Hanzo down. Hanzo's so impressive, moving muscle and rippling tattoo, dark ponytail spilling down, joyous and proud -

-thankfully, Hanzo ends it. He's got what he wanted. He stands up, unfastening his hair tie for long enough to mend the damage done by Jesse's blind fingers, breathing quickly, face flushed. Jesse stays where he is, wrecked. Hanzo lets out a few slow breaths through wide lips. Then he straightens his clothing and walks out without another glance.

Jesse is left, sitting quietly, realizing he misplayed it. He has never been given a glimpse at the board.

Gabriel is left, sitting quietly, letting out a long, slow breath. Waiting for a chance to move.

The feed flickers, and turns off.

**

"What the _fuck_ ," says Jesse to the closed door.

**

Hanzo is not trusting. He has an agent placed to observe if the Kurofuji-gumi attempt to bribe the police into releasing the assassin into their care. He has no reason to be kind, so he does not go to Adrian until late in the evening.

Adrian is standing across the room when he pushes the door open. Hanzo closes it behind him. The man regards him silently, arms crossed. Hanzo walks to the bed and places his storm bow and a single arrow on the table.

"I thought you had a weapon hidden in that thing," the man says. "Then you tried to hit me with it."

"It is sturdy," Hanzo says. "A weapon I trust with my life." Adrian prowls a few steps closer. Hanzo can see the trapped force in his movements. He is curbed power, holding himself together by force of will. "Since I have very few I trust like that." He pulls out his hair tie and shakes his ponytail loose. "I have always been taught that it is a weakness, caring too much."

"And what do you think?"

Hanzo beckons him. Adrian crosses to settle on the side of the bed. He looks at ease, but Hanzo has learned what to watch for by now. He is tense. Probably has been from the moment the feed began.

"I think," Hanzo says, "if that assassin is nothing to you, say the word.  I will ransom him to the Kurofuji-gami, and use the money for a trinket to please you."

Adrian watches him, eyes glittering, lips together. The silence stretches. Hanzo slides across the sheets, aided by the silk of his robe, and lifts a hand. Adrian doesn't lean into it, doesn't move away, just tolerates it as Hanzo touches the side of his face. A tamed tiger?

"This," his fingers rest on a ridge under the skin, "could be a disguise worth his ransom. Or it could be real. It could be that you suffered this fighting Omnics. I would be your enemy if I forced an answer." He leans in, close enough to see the shades of stain fading on the man's dark skin. "But if it is fake, you are running out of time."

"Is that all you want?" The surface cracks. He glimpses rage burning beneath. "To always be searching for more pieces to use?"

Hanzo shakes his head. "You misunderstand." He's proud to be able to say it. "We were testing each other before we even spoke." He traces his fingers down to the man's throat and lets them rest there. "But I don't want to hold him forever. Or to fight you forever. I want you to plan beside me."

The flames of anger are gone. Smoke remains, obscuring what he thinks. "A partnership."

"I am the leader of the Shimada-gumi," Hanzo says. "Every alliance of mine must be political." He stops, lips apart, and drops his gaze. There are words behind his throat that he can't find a way to say. The world is huge, and his family wants only Japan; his brother has torn free and is running wild, and Hanzo must shoulder duty, bear the yoke of his family. He has stepped into the few freedoms Genji had, and they are incredible. He wants another taste. He will pass on the Shimada line with whatever wife his family chooses. But he wants someone at his side that he has chosen. He wants-

He wants Adrian to admit that he has never had a better offer. He will not say it. But he knows it. 

"I want," Hanzo says, "to know who you are."

"I am the most dangerous man that you have met in your life." It's said plainly, evenly. Factually.

"You have not yet harmed me," Hanzo points out, "and I am still pursuing what I want." Adrian has not objected, has not moved from under his hands. Hanzo drops his fingers down to the first button and pops it open. Adrian watches, eyes dark, mouth twisted unreadably. Is that sympathy? Every time Hanzo looks back up, there seems a difference.

"Hanzo," says Adrian.

"Yes?"

"What is the weapon hidden in the bow?"

"Who are you?"

Adrian lunges. Hanzo brings an arm up to protect his head, fearing that he is about to be smashed into the table by the bed. Instead, he is dragged down. Adrian pulls his own shirt off, careless of the buttons, and kisses him. It's not what Hanzo wanted. It's too aggressive. He rolls them over. Adrian lets him, takes his weight easily. Hanzo reaches for his hair tie. Grabs Adrian's arm, kisses the inside of his wrist. Adrian watches him, eyes narrow, working his belt free with one hand.

"Let me show you," Hanzo says, pressing the hair tie against the outside of his wrist.

"You already know you have to talk me into it," Adrian says. He is lying back like he is the ruler here. "Not a good sign."

"I know that you think I am a poor leader for you. You think I am unworthy."

The sound of the belt sliding through the last few loops is loud. Adrian's expression changes quickly. Hanzo watches, trying to keep up. He wants to lean down and kiss him, catches himself from doing it - this could be a turning point, and it's not something he can try to slide from the man's grip, or look as if he were trying to do so.

The sound of Adrian's hand catching his wrist is loud. Hanzo jumps. The end of the belt slips from Adrian's thumb and hangs down his arm. "What if I am better?" Adrian asks.

"Then we will both know," Hanzo says, heart in his mouth.

Adrian laughs. It's booming, from his belly. He tosses the belt aside. It nearly slithers off the bed. Adrian's hand slaps down. He drops it on the pillow where he can reach it when he wants it, and brings his wrists up, together.

 


	5. Gresham's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter; a pivot.

The castle is still not the slightest bit on fire. Ana and Jack stand side by side, frowning down at the satellite feed. There is a diplomatic letter lying open on the table, with a simple, clear seal stamped at the bottom.

"He's still alive," Jack says aloud. Pinging Gabriel's status is risky; if anyone detects the response and figures out what it is, they'll have an excellent way to track Gabriel Reyes. But sometimes, in nerve-wracking silence, it has to be done.

"They still are not panicking," Ana says. "I would love to know what's going on down there."

"The Kirofuji clan's panicking," Jack says, tapping a few buttons to skip the display closer to the mainland. "They know something's still happening. They've dug in and put their heads down. We're not going to get them back in sight as long as McCree and Reyes are down there. We'll have to crack them open." Ana sighs through her nose. They were hoping to wait longer, but Gabriel's silence, and lack of explosions, is... concerning. Jack gives her a little glance and drops a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If they are prisoners, they'll be shown off as hostages once we start putting on the pressure."

"Now?" Ana asks, tapping the letter. It gives them permission to act.

"Now." Jack reaches for his helmet. Ana puts her earpiece in and turns for the door. 

**

Hanzo is pretending to sleep.

Gabriel thinks it's funny. If he were to slide a hand over Hanzo's back right now, firm enough to be counting ribs, Hanzo would be waiting for him to near something vital. He'd have Hanzo up and lunging. Checking his other hand, already guessing where he'd gotten the blade.

He stretches. He feels better. He feels twice his real age. Since he saw the two -

Since earlier today he's been wound up. Longer than that. Since Hanzo's maddening little tip of his chin, overconfident. Hanzo's younger than him. He wonders how he's feeling right now. Hanzo is lying within reach of his bow. The arrow, Gabriel knows from an earlier glance, is past the bow.

Which is odd, because in a pinch, Gabriel would gladly take the arrow. One stab, and he wouldn't need the bow. It's like the arrow is more important than the bow itself. Ridiculous. Hanzo's capable of just beating someone to death with the damn thing. Why would he stop halfway and shoot them? 

Is the weapon hidden more in the arrow than the bow? How would that even work? But he's gotten a good close look at the bow, and nothing at all about the arrows. Maybe that _is_ it. Poison? Poison gas? Gabriel can't imagine. And anyway, it's not important right now. What's important is that he thinks he has another day and night before he's unmasked. Less, if he keeps letting Hanzo making him sweat; that can't be good for the glue.

It's the most obvious time limit. There are more. Hanzo is deluding himself if he thinks the Shimada-gumi won't eventually lose patience and attempt to assassinate the boss' new... friend. Hanzo might be the family gem, with some kind of near-mythical significance to him and his brother. But do they trust his leadership?

Reyes thinks: _he's still inexperienced_. Isolated, and aware of it. Trapped. Chained with love and duty.

Reyes knows the feeling.  

Some of his escape plans involved complicating the Shimada-gumi's pursuit with Hanzo's lifeless body. He's been an entertaining opponent. Earnest. Persistent. Honorable. Caged, as much as Gabriel is. There is a whisk of dark hair spilled over his forearm. He traces it with a finger. Gabriel has killed those who deserve it more, and those who deserve it less.

He has to admit, there's something to the idea of them both starting over, sinking roots into some part of the globe and dragging order around them. There's enough chaos left over from the Crisis, enough crumbled populations, destabilized governments, and shifting battlefields that it's needed. The Shimada-gumi will not accept Hanzo's departure, not after Genji Shimada flitted off to rebel his way across the globe. It's as crazy an idea as Reyes joining Hanzo. Whatever Hanzo wants, Gabriel already is the cornerstone of one world. It's more important than-

Anyone.

He could have done a lot of things, by now. Could have let Jesse step into his space, like he's hinted at doing so many times. Could have unwrapped him, unraveled him. He's devoted so much to what Jesse could be that he has to look past who he is. Past his wishes, past his hopes.

 _Yes,_ he thinks, tired of his own thoughts, _I know what it's like to be carrying as much as you lead._

**

He is exhausted. A good exhaustion, warm and weary, sated. There is still no chance he will fall asleep by this man. If his own conclusions didn't keep him awake, the silent coil of staring dragons would. They wait until he summons them, and won't intervene on their own, even to save his life; they won't move on their own to save him from consequences. But they watch.

 _Everyone has weak points._ And whoever Jorrin is? Hanzo closes his eyes. Well, he is six inches away. For all his greater strength, for all his intelligence, he's a man like any other. (And Hanzo is six inches from him.)

Hanzo has gained ground. He has not conquered, but he is far closer than-

They both jump at the shrill of Hanzo's datapad. He reaches up to his neatly hanging clothing and pats for pockets. It's an emergency.

There's a short series of panicked messages. More are spilling in. Hanzo slides out of bed. Behind him, Jorrin sits up. Hanzo glances at him, shrugging on his nagajuban, putting the bedside table between them. He picks up the arrow. With his other hand, he taps in a brief few orders.

"Hey, you've got-" Adrian is hiding a smirk so lazily, it is more smug than an open version. He waves a hand expressively over the side of his face. Hanzo scowls and steps into the bathroom. He glances at the mirror and blushes. No matter. He puts the storm bow on the counter and runs water to clean up. Adrian steps into the bathroom, and Hanzo puts a hand on the arrow. Adrian gathers his hair in one hand, tying it back. The expression on his face is studied, concentrating. Hanzo watches it in the mirror as he wraps and ties his kimono. Adrian has been careful not to leave marks above his collarbones. Surprising discretion.

"Are the Shimada-gumi under attack?"

Hanzo turns. Studies him coolly. "How odd that your mind jumped to that, Adrian. It is... family business." Jorrin is starting to smell, musk hinting stale and ripe, but Hanzo can't really complain when he was the one who got them both so sweaty. He hopes he is more presentable. He puts his hands on broad shoulders and leans up. Jorrin, obliging, bends. Hanzo kisses him. He tries not to let it seem unusual. "I may be a while. The elders are bickering." Jorrin nods. Hanzo turns away. There is a jolt, and a sharp noise, and an impact, and he chokes in surprise and whirls with his bow raised between them. Did- 

Yes. Adrian just slapped him on the ass. Hanzo lowers the bow. Huffs air at him. But he must seem calm. He hears the sound of bedcovers sliding as the door closes behind him. He motions to the guards.

**

Yeah, there's no way in _hell_ it was just family business. If Hanzo weren't trying to appear above every-fucking-thing, trying to pretend nothing was happening, he'd have killed Reyes for that.

Overwatch.

Gabriel gives it a five-count, then gets up and gets dressed. The Shimada-gumi are going to hit high alert, but they're also going to move forward, looking out. It's an opening. He presses his ear to the door, listening for footsteps, picturing the hall in his mind's eye. Give it a few minutes for Hanzo to leave the area.

If Shimada thinks Jesse is the best way to control him, then no matter what's going on out there, he'll keep Jesse safe. He remembers the quick tap of Hanzo's fingers. Remembers how fast Hanzo had been at ordering Jesse contained in the first place. He is not a man to let pieces sit or roam on the board. He moves them into position as soon as he can.

They're getting Jesse out of the jail and bringing him here.

Time to go.

**

The car is heading down the dark streets towards the rendezvous.

Overwatch. Hanzo looks at the picture on his datapad. Jesse McCree. Famous outside; not famous at all in Japan.

Hanzo is not sure how the police force overlooked it. Perhaps they did the minimum when they knew he was involved. Perhaps Overwatch interfered. Perhaps...

None of that is relevant.

"Then who is Jorrin?"

"No match." A series of pictures spill into the air. "Here are all the nearest Overwatch agents." Hanzo runs a critical gaze over them. He takes his time, but it is quickly clear: he has caught something very different in Jorrin. "It's possible he is a new-"

"No." Hanzo does not usually interrupt, but he is already thinking on new lines. Overwatch is involved in the Kirofuji takedown. The timing is too perfect. But if Jorrin was testing McCree...

"Criminal background?"

"Rescued from organized crime at seventeen."

...Jorrin isn't Overwatch. He is something much more... hidden. Something strong enough to know where Overwatch is moving, and move around it. Or perhaps someone that Overwatch agent McCree agreed to meet on a surveillance mission, already knowing they were on a tangent. Talon? But if Jorrin were Talon, why would he not try to recruit Hanzo as an ally? Hanzo wonders if there is a group still hidden from sight. Perhaps smaller. But exclusive.

Hanzo's datapad goes off. He answers immediately. He can hear Junko Kirofuji going off at a subordinate. "Yes, Kirofuji-san?" he prompts. He has greeted her more politely, but he's not even sure she knows he's there.

She calms her breathing. Swallows. "I know that you are unlikely to involve yourself, Shimada-san, although we are suffering heavy losses. For the last of the alliance... I beg of you, your aid."

"I am willing to offer protection of your person," he says. "I am on my way now to escort you. But as for my forces-"

"You have an army," she snaps. "You have wealth enough to hire mercenaries. If you commit yourself now, you could help us to fight off our enemy!"

"Overwatch has clearly been granted permission to act overtly," Hanzo answers. "The government has chosen to allow outsiders to strike against us. That means that we are considered too large a problem. We cannot continue to draw attention, and the Kirofuji-gumi have been making themselves visible. My family has not." He gives her a moment to think about that. "If I commit my forces to an attack in Overwatch's face, with this little notice, we have made stopping us even more a priority. We will not win simply by throwing them back. What is now a devastating raid will become a war. They have more resources. They can pursue us while we cannot pursue them. Kirofuji-san -"

"You coward," she says. Her voice is trembling with rage, but he can hear the disdain.

He feels his chin lift. "Kirofuji."

She does not pause. "You pathetic excuse of a man, you command forces larger than mine, mythical beings at your disposal, and you choose to watch us fight and die?" Her voice stops, under control. "You will give me the assassin that you clearly are afraid to use, and in return... in return, I will obtain the child and hand him over."

Hanzo is silent. Child? _What?_

"Go on," he says, when it is clear she has laid down her trump card.

"What's there to say?" She gives a little laugh. "I know where to look for the child. Your family, obviously, has not, from the way they have been sweeping Hanamura." Her voice turns mocking. "Oh, yes, you are observed there. Who would not watch the Shimada-gumi? It turns out they will not actually _do_ anything, but you are watched all the same."

Child. He thinks of Genji's sudden departure, of the way he has been tearing across the globe, demanding attention... drawing it away from someone. Desperately seeking funds; he has a purpose in mind for that money that does not relate to his escape at all, but the disappearance of someone else. Genji has a child, and that child has been left with his (her?) mother, somewhere in Japan. Somewhere closer to Kirofuji territory than to his own, clearly.  Because the Kirofuji clan has been creeping closer to the mainland and to the south. Genji wanted them to live somewhere close to an escape, probably by boat.

Jesse McCree is an Overwatch agent. On paper, he is a Shimada enemy. He may have some value to Adrian, but Adrian is not his family; Adrian has not agreed to be his ally. He may have some value to Adrian's backers, in which case, he wishes them joy meeting Kirofuji. He swallows. Adrian will be furious. Be-

Adrian should have agreed to mesh his interests with Hanzo. It is not on Hanzo's head.

"A trade," he agrees.

**

Jesse McCree hears the thump on the roof of the van. He glanced up and settles deep into the seat, bracing his feet. His wrists are restrained, but he doesn't want to jerk too hard on the cuffs and cut himself.

Something dark swings off the roof and into the windshield. The van bolts forward with the sound of shattering glass. A heavy body lands in the cab. There's the screech of brakes. Jesse sits back, watching the fight. The driver tries to help and gets a dislocated shoulder. He swerves with a scream of pain, and then Reyes is beside him, foot on the brake. There's the expected, jarring stop.

"What are the sirens?" Jesse asks as Gabriel smashes the driver's head into the steering wheel twice, before knocking him out more elegantly.

"I thought a carpet salesman might be your ride," Gabriel says, patting over the driver's body. "Who has the fucking keys?"

"Passenger."

There's a groan of pain. Gabriel ignores it, tearing the man's jacket off and pouring the handcuff keys into his hand. He drops them into his pocket, tosses the passenger out into the road, and pitches the driver onto the sidewalk, settling into the driver's seat. Jesse doesn't know if the passenger is dead. Doesn't matter, Gabriel's sweeping safety glass out of the windshield with his arm, and they're going. He turns the wheel towards the docks.  

"Maybe uncuff me first?"

"You hurt?"

"Nope."

"You'll wait."

Jesse grins at the back of Gabriel's head. A flash of light beams from the docks. A helicopter passes overhead. "Good to see you. Boss, why didn't they check the face?"

"Told them how ugly I am under it. They didn't want to look. They treat you all right?"

"Can't complain. They could screen their visitors more carefully, I'll tell you that."

"Hanamura is the weirdest fucking place on earth." In the distance, dancing lights; a swarm of helicopters and transports circling the docks. Gabriel floors it.


	6. Security Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, plans must be adapted on the fly.

The night has gone from calm to chaos. Hanzo takes his hand off the bundle on the seat beside him, clothing brought to him by a servant as he left. Just in case. He gets out of the car, relaxes, presses his head against the join of the door and the roof, and lets the facts spill through his mind, sifting for the pieces he needs.

Adrian left the castle in a trail of broken limbs and unconscious or wounded men. That he did not actually finish anyone off (two are in critical condition,) tells Hanzo that Adrian did not wish to outright declare war. It is small comfort. Hanzo breathes. How he managed to intercept - but Adrian would have observed the routes to Hanzo's ancestral home, and he would have picked the one from the police -

Useless to cover this ground. New angle. The situation has changed; Adrian was never actually secured, and McCree is now free to move against the Shimada. His security force is greatly weakened. More importantly, he does not have the bargaining chip he needs to get his niece? Nephew? From the Kirofuji-gumi. (Disturbing: this was all hidden from him. By a shamed Genji: no surprise. By the elders: alarming. No time. Set it aside, consider it later.)

Whatever McCree might do, it is reasonable to assume that he will move quickly to rejoin Overwatch. Should Adrian be using McCree and his Overwatch association, he will move with him, to be sure he is reunited. They currently have no weapons. If McCree is allowed to rejoin Overwatch, Hanzo will have lost the one thing Kirofuji wants to trade. She might force a great price from his family. She might do worse.

He has his remaining staff, his wits, his dragons. Oh, and he is a Shimada standing in Hanamura as outsiders rain down hell. They might be striking only at the Kirofuji-gumi holding the docks. But they are still _there._

 _"My family has held Hanamura for centuries."_ He warned Adrian. He is insulted that he did not listen.

"Keep driving as you were," he says, popping open the door. "I want a widespread alert to those loyal to the Shimada-gumi near the docks. Everyone who we will need has already been awakened by the attack. No one is to approach the conflict. Block the paths to the Overwatch cordons. I need them slowed, spotted, and tracked." He sends a message to  Junko Kirofuji telling her where, and when, he intends to rendezvous. He glances at her response; it doesn't influence his plans. She makes no claim to have found the child already.

"Do I look among housing records for a woman and child? Recently moved?" The nephew, still sitting in the car, guesses.  

"She might be staying with a friend, or has rented a room from someone, to avoid questions. She has friends among the Kirofuji-gumi, or an ally, but is not directly associated with them. She lives near the docks, or has an easy way to get to them quickly." He shrugs. "If you have a way to search among those, do it." He hopes in the chaos, mother and child have already fled. If Kirofuji has to take time, her rage will cool to sense, and she will be more amenable to bargaining for her safety. He shakes the bundle out. "And darken the windows."

His kimono would be acceptable to meet Kirofuji and escort her to safety. It is _not_ acceptable for fighting Adrian.

**

 _Hanamura itself is helping him_. People are turned out in the streets, watching them, sending messages, moving cars across the way. Some earnest souls have been bringing things out of their houses and leaving them in the road. Gabriel went right through an entertainment center and a bookcase, but at an intersection, women and children were standing in the narrow street beside a van.

He'd backed up.

"It's as bad as that compound near-"

"I know." Gabriel parks. "We're running it."

 Jesse doesn't argue. Gabriel sprints with him towards the cordon. Eyes stay on them, but stopping them just became much more challenging. No one moves to try.

The battle at the docks is moving away. Flashlights bob and move, uncertain people leaving the nearest buildings and running, or driving, away. Gabriel can smell heavy, oily smoke drifting. Behind them, the local power network has been damaged and the city streets are patchworked with black, but there's no chance of their eyes adjusting; something large at the docks is burning, throwing leaping light over the rooftops. Searchlights slice the night. Helicopters cross over the streets, lights shining below. They will have noticed the disturbance in some of the roads, and will be making sure that people disperse.

Jack had been hoping to let more time pass for the Kirofuji-gumi to collapse, but he would have moved his plans up when he heard nothing. Resistance sounds heavier than anticipated, shocked and angry gangsters who haven't realized they've already lost.

The cordons aren't going to help Reyes and McCree. They're local forces, Japanese police and military, keeping order. Even from this distance, Gabriel knows the drill: they're processing those trying to leave, whether taking their names and allowing them to pass, or arresting them. Letting someone _in_ is not going to happen. There's just a couple of blocks, now.

The buildings along the street ahead of them look joined together, wall to wall, in one long stretch. There's a cordon to either side. Gabriel weighs _around_ and decides on _through._ He crosses the street, Jesse moving with him, and reaches to test the door.

An arrow zips past his ear and _thunks_ into the wood.

He grabs Jesse's shoulder and shoves him. They're sitting ducks in the open. When he turns, the long stretch of street behind him is empty, except for some fast-moving shapes near the far end. Gabriel casts a glance at the arrow. The shaft is straight. The archer was on the ground.

Jesse's head turns as they move. He's assessing the large picture window of a nearby store. Gabriel grabs him and heaves him back. He is not surprised when the next arrow lands between them and the storefront. He casts a glance behind him. There's only small cars there, no real cover. Hanzo is herding them. Gabriel and Jesse run. He almost crosses over to the cordon, but there's too much activity at this one, the guards are agitated and have their hands on their guns. All it needs is for Hanzo to fire an arrow into their backs, and they will turn and mow down both men in the street. He watches the darkness for-

He has an image in his mind of what to look for, but Hanzo doesn't hold the bow straight up and down. He almost misses the cocked line. The ends of its arms are covered in metal. His warning is the shine of light as Hanzo draws and the bow's arc changes. He doesn't have time to think. He stops and waits. No use listening, sound travels slower -

The arrow's in flight. He can't track it to deflect or catch. It's too dark. He dodges. It cuts close enough that he hears it sing in the air. It _thwacks_ into the wall. He estimates that it would have landed just above his knee, where it had a chance to avoid the big blood vessels. Hanzo's not aiming to kill - at least, not immediately. Gabriel keeps his eyes on the patch of shadow behind that metal line, but it's moving, climbing. Hanzo isn't going to just sit and waste arrows after one was avoided. He's going to cut the range, so there's less time. And he's getting off the street to shrink the angles of their cover. _Fuck._

He runs after Jesse, who's also decided not to approach the cordon with an angry archer hidden behind them. They're being pushed down the road, nearer to the sea. There's an alleyway that heads towards the docks, but he glances at the narrow, choked walls.  Remembers the figures moving just before Hanzo began to shepherd them. Goes past, and runs towards the other side of the street. If he gets them into the buildings below Hanzo -

The air is full of arrows, bouncing and hissing around him.

  **

No weapon, strange city, battle on in the background, chased by assassins. Uncomfortable even by Blackwatch standards. Jesse's feet hurt in his dress shoes. He'd kill for a cigarette. And this damned mission's nearly over. Just have to out-maneuver -

That's when the street explodes into a hail of flickering arrows. One rips along the inside of his calf, skipping point-first into the road and shattering end-over-end.

 _"Jefe!"_ Because Gabriel's down on one knee with an arm over his head. Jesse has dropped behind a car, rolling close to it for cover. Gabriel stands, smashing his fist through the car window, ripping the door off and lifting it. An arrow _thunks_ through one edge, into the car's hood, silencing the alarm. Jesse looks up. It's him. The ponytail, the flickering scarf are still a signature; he hasn't bothered to cover his face.

"Not a name," Hanzo observes levelly. He's holding the bow at what looks like full draw, but he speaks easily. "What is it?" Jesse isn't sure which of them he's talking to. But he's aiming at Gabriel, so Jesse ducks down behind the car.

"I just say what comes into my head," he calls, trying to think.  Archer. On the roof. They're pinned down. He doesn't have any weapon right now. Kind of an awkward escape. Usually, those go better.

Another _thunk._ And a crash from the edge of the roof. That's the clearest signal he'll get. Jesse jumps up, vaulting over the car. He and Reyes hit the door together, falling into a living room. He looks over his shoulder as the battered car door falls into the road. There's two holes in it; the arrows were going right through. Hanzo still hadn't expected it to be thrown at him. He glances at Reyes. No arrows, no blood. No time to think about that. Jesse smashes a table and grabs the leg. Reyes picks up a broom and takes the head off with a sweep of his hand. They move in harmony towards the room's other door.

There's a gunman there. Jesse glances back just as Hanzo drops down in front of the door, bow drawn. Jesse does not miss how the point swings up towards his eyes, then down, to stop around his knee.

"No more games," Hanzo says grimly.

"No more games," Reyes agrees. He brings one hand up, hooking his thumbnail under the synthetic skin, pushing under to pop the prosthetic disguise off. It peels off, the skin with it, leaving his face reddened, the hairs of his beard flat and shining against his skin. Hanzo is too disciplined for the bowstring to ease, but his eyes widen. The point of the arrow drifts. A centimeter off. Two. Three.

-should Jesse look surprised? He thinks he should look surprised. He does.

**

_Gabriel Reyes._

He was one of a handful to save the world. One of the two who spearheaded the best plans, who won the key battles. _Gabriel Reyes._ There's been a thousand different rumors since he dropped from sight: he's lost his mind to the secret augmentations he received; he's still in Overwatch; he's dead; he's an anarchist attacking governments across the globe; he's running Talon; he appears from the shadows to interfere with a thousand small-scale criminal organizations.

The last appears perfectly true. McCree is staring, he realizes. Could mean anything. Not important right now. "Adrian" is Gabriel Reyes. That face (chiseled down, bones blunted, skull rounded, an easier rest against the hand,) has been blazed through newsfeeds across the world. The mind he challenged once framed strategies that protected continents. While Hanzo was a child ordering his brother to fight with a stick in the backyard, this man was accepting his first promotion.

The same hands that took war-ready Omnics apart limb by limb have gripped against his scalp. Hanzo has grabbed him, pulled him, tied him. Has pushed against his disguise and never grasped the scale of it.  It's businesslike enough to be impersonal. Like anyone else, he couldn't see past the mask. It's personal. One of the men who saved the world knows what Hanzo Shimada shouts when -

Jesse McCree's startlement has gone to wariness. Hanzo finds he is fidgeting with the bowstring in a way very likely to cause misfire. He clears his throat. His plan of taking nonlethal shots and leaving with McCree shifts. He cannot just look at the man who kept the world from falling and shoot him. At least, not like this; it isn't... honorable. He lowers the arrow point. Reyes, damn him, just watches. Hanzo reminds himself that he is the latest leader of the Shimadas, and the dragons find him worthy. He composes himself.  

"Uh," McCree says. "Not that I'm complainin', but we seemed to have calmed down mighty quick."  

"This has changed the situation," Hanzo says stiffly. He isn't sure what honorific to use now; it seems very strange to change to -sama for someone who has shared his bed. "It's not personal," Hanzo adds. To Reyes. (Gabriel Reyes.) "It's business."

Reyes still has his imitation skin and flesh hanging in one hand. It's surreal. "What's not personal about it?" Trapped weaponless, trespassing in someone's home, he is still regal.

"Not here," Hanzo says. "There are ears." After all, he doesn't know if the homeowners have fled the fighting, or are upstairs with their ears pressed to the floor. He relaxes the bowstring. "Outside. There will be a car." He does not miss the raised eyebrow that McCree gives to Reyes. Or the tiny little quirk of Reyes' lip. How can he make them want to-

He doesn't have to convince both of them. He doesn't have to try to lure Reyes into the game. Just McCree, who he _knows_ is with Overwatch, at least technically. Even if Reyes is running some kind of shadow organization and McCree wants to join him, he will want to save face after his accidental jailing. Hanzo commits. "If you are trying to finish what you began, you are looking for someone who will not be at the docks."  They share a glance. He nods. He turns and walks out without a second look.

He's not surprised that Reyes, who can survive an ambush far more easily than a typical human, leads the way out on the street. Hanzo motions to the Shimada backing him up, signaling for them to stay where they are. Reyes observes.

"Kirofuji Junko has offered a trade of hostages," Hanzo says. "A child that interests the Shimada-gumi  was stranded in the city during the recent trouble. It is only a matter of time before the Kirofuji-gumi discover the child's location." He nods at McCree's look. He glances at Reyes again. Reyes has noticed an arrow stuck between two joins in the sidewalk. He picks it up, studying the arrowhead as he listens. Hanzo pauses, wondering at his curiosity. His face is more expressive now. His cheekbones are more handsome now that they are not quite as prominent. His skin is still reddened in bands where the prosthetics stuck to the skin.

"You were going to insist," Reyes fills in patiently. Thankfully, he drops the artificial face in a pocket.

Hanzo glances at him. "Now, I ask. I can bring you closer to her than you could manage on your own. I could allow you to be ready should you see an opportunity. As for McCree-"

"I'm goin' to need a gun," McCree says. When Reyes looks up from the arrow, fixing him with a stare, he adds: "I know who all the Kirofuji-gumi deal with, same as you. I ain't lettin' them have a kid when we could just mop up."

It doesn't quite surprise Hanzo, given his heroic exploits with Overwatch, but he does wonder why the man is seeking to join Reyes in the assassin's path. Hanzo gestures for one of his agents to arm the man. Reyes clears his throat. "There is a shotgun in the trunk," Hanzo says. The expectant look he is given is kin to the one he got while he was finishing the knot in his scarf. He finds it incredibly disorienting.

"I'd like it now." Hanzo jerks his chin at the nephew, who looks surprised at him. He glares until the man moves. Reyes takes the shotgun politely, in much the same way Hanzo would accept a child's practice bow. Hanzo holds out a hand. Reyes slides the arrow precisely into his palm. Hanzo avoids his gaze, turning towards the car. Having Reyes' curiosity on it was somehow alarming. 

"Y'know, we could do this a lot better if-" McCree starts to gesture towards the Overwatch chaos not far away.

It is rude to interrupt. Hanzo cuts him off. "I have let you know that the child is of interest to my family. I do not want to trade one hostage-taker for another."  

"You're mighty suspicious," McCree says pityingly. Hanzo is speechless. McCree gives him a wink and gets in the car.  Reyes gets in after him. Hanzo climbs in, sitting across from him. His best warrior climbs in at her side. It is a token, and he knows it. He thinks they all might. 

Hanzo's eyes flick between Jesse and Ad - Gabriel. That they hide their dynamic so well is a clue of its own. "I was hopin' to see more of Hanamura," says Jesse, looking out the dark window, without seeming to notice his attention.

"Oh, yes," Hanzo's tone drops to disinterest, and he makes a show of examining the arrow for damage before sliding it in the quiver. "Let's talk about things we have seen."

"Why?" McCree tries to follow, unsure if he is dismissing him, or warning him. Reyes is narrowing his eyes. "What have you seen?"

"Me?" Hanzo asks. He ignores Reyes, but gives Jesse a superior glance. "Nothing."

Reyes rubs the reddened side of his face with a sandpaper rasp against his growth of stubble. He looks out the other window. McCree gives Hanzo a long, steady look. Hanzo smiles politely. His suspicion, and Reyes' matching discomfort, is an incredibly minor victory. Hanzo enjoys it.

The car rolls into the night.


End file.
